𝖒ᴀᴄᴇᴅᴏɴ'ꜱ𝖗ᴇᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ

His tongue snaked through his teeth , pondering , pondering , pondering until a jagged , crooked finger touched by that devil's darkness prodded at the dryness of his lower lip. How could he wear the cloak of a wounded man , littered from chest to fingertip with raised , desperately-healed wounds and be not a virtuous figure ?

Teeth clack , a grimace grows. The pale envelope , wax-sealed and sanctified by this holy , child-condemning establishment , is not felt under the hardness of war-touched fingers. But garnet stares at curling parchment , —— we regret to inform you . . . —— !

It is cast swiftly away and cornered under heel. Utterly ignorant ! A testament to the ignoramus of a council that sows piety like pestilence , pleading that it roots and takes into the soil of devotees.

It cannot be helped that his fingers touch at his chest —— at that site of darkness , charred pink and branching under the mantles he cloaks and silhouettes himself in.

How could one steal Starlight into their fingers , wrested from the devils , and be turned away ?

It is a lousy goddess , he can only ponder.

" What a miserable council , " He grumbles to not a soul at all , standing about the remaining awaitees. " You fools haven't any thought of those within your walls , do you? "

A declaration of incompetency is perhaps all it takes to amount to one's father. It bites his lip well enough to sting.

Such things were bygone memories of a bygone , boyish time ( —— a time of youth , of joviality unencumbered , pursuing only to axe the shores and knock them with his feet for dampening the edges of his sisters' skirts ).

But this flower and its luminous , sunshine petals —— was it so luminous as the glint of their threaded banner ? Did it know the heat of the noontime sun , hot , balmy on the backs of winged steeds ?

Once-King Macedon did not know , nor did he know if such hands as those scarred ones beneath his black gloves could care for such tender , feeble blossoms. He was no man of calm , of peace —— there was ceaseless blood in the crevices of teeth that ground at times with wartime recollection , still unwashed and not at all festive. But there were clementine hands put to his health and countless nights of weary labor poured upon him —— he could endeavor , this much , to spare a frail flower its short life.

Then came loose the leather at his heel , and even did russet Alecandros ( who had no love for pawing into dewy mud and trotting , the winged , sky-demanding beast that he was ) emit low sounds. And muscled pulled Michalis's face taut.

Why were his leathers unfastened ?

" What is this ? " He spoke , full of demand and hot vexation. " What a petty feud! Come forward you mutt who —— "

It is a long breath that calms him , and a terrible thought that the youngest of Macedon would ( and rightly so , he grumbles ) chide him for his impatience.

So he exchanges accusation for a moment's bitten , teeth-ground patience , " Which one of you unfastened my straps? "

Though, perhaps it was only a matter of time before his father decided to return to his grand project. He was hardly at the age of being incapable of siring more sons, after all.

"Perhaps there is a reason for the concern, as you say; at least you are aware of it. Some are forever blind to it, willfully or not. Yet you're here. You're putting in the effort, trying to look out for your sibling in a less than ideal situation." The smile he offers is measured, but there is an understanding. "You may not consider yourself admirable for it, but I think it's a fine thing."

He pauses, expression falling into something more serious.

"I know little of Fodlan's religious leanings, but where I'm from, our Gods reached a tipping point of madness that would have dragged us off the edge of the void with them, had we not severed those ties. To see another religious establishment so tightly wound around a place of learning and a military force...Well, it does breed some concerns," Lukas replied, tone even.

Soulless eyes and muted despair. Honored dead desecrated, forced from their places of rest to wander unless put to purifying flame. The land itself spewing poison like putrid puss from a wound.

"If our situation here becomes more dire, you will certainly have my cooperation in defense of the students. Your sister is on my team, and just as with the other students, I would not hesitate to place myself in between her and danger."

Neither of their souls were clean, but they could see eye to eye on that.

Lukas is somewhat caught off-guard by the question, his gaze shifting away as he turns thoughtful. "My hope in knowing him...?" What a question, indeed. They had been a fixture in each other's lives, but ever opposing, never meeting in the middle.

His gaze remains focused somewhere on the floor, hands clasped tight behind his back, before lifting another smile onto his face. Small, tinged with something he doesn't understand and cannot put a name to. "I think...I should have liked to know him at all, and be known in return. To know that, despite our differences or mistakes made between us, there is a connection that could not be broken by anything."

Whatever relationship Michalis had with his sisters, he was still in their lives, he knew them -- he cared, even if it was not perfect.

"I do not think you have to fear not being seen as strong or capable by Maria. You are a big brother who would do anything, no matter how it dirtied your hands or your soul, for her. She is able to hope because of the path you guard for her." A slight laugh, then, "But do not fear being vulnerable. She has the hands of a healer, they are gentle on a heart of turmoil, if you let them reach it."

But it is an odd thing — Michalis of Macedon speaking of hope and that piercing white light that had so safely guarded him from death , and he looks away , the art of comfort uneasy on a warlord’s tongue.

“ If my first sister should still dare to look upon me , “ He begins , brows drawn fiercely together. “ And regard me not as the man she opposed but as her friend from our youth , there is hope for you yet. “

For he had never thought she’d so welcome him again — that she’d raise spear and axe and wyvern maw against him with nary a hesitation.

“ But I must disagree , one last time. “ And he raises a broad hand to assuage both tempers , shaking his head. “ There is no greater shame than for a healer to have need to raise their staff — in battle or otherwise , especially if it is by careless courage that their patient suffers injury. “

( And that had been him , yes — so reckless among warlords and desperate against oppressing Dolhr , and the pink of long-healed scars still marred his face for it , sutured endlessly by the young hands of his healer sister. )

There would be no second chance with his brother. There had never been a first. They were both likely better off if never again did they see each other.

"I shall try to take that to heart. Perhaps all we needed was some time away from each other, space to put things into perspective," Lukas hums out, tone still thoughtful and a bit far away.

Their situations were not the same. Michalis and his sisters had at one time been connected through genuine love for one another. Somewhere, it seems they clashed on something -- important enough to draw lines in the sand, but not so unforgivable as to be barred from a future where they might build that bond back up. In the eyes of his brother, Lukas' crime was existing; it was a wide and wild river that separated them, and he did not think a bridge could ever span those fraught waters between them.

Lukas inclines his head. "That is indeed what we should strive for, but such a standard cannot always be achieved. Healers give a part of themselves to everyone they heal, so I understand the desire to minimize such...well-intentioned self-harm." He had lost count of the times he'd stood as a wall between foe and healer, but no matter how thick his armor or how pointed his spear, damage was accumulated -- and healing light was always there at his side, both giving what the other could not endure.

"You do not hesitate to throw yourself into danger for her sake," Lukas says, red gaze once more returning to Michalis', "I would urge you to think of her actions in much the same way. Perhaps she should not have been put into that position, but it was out of the love she holds for you that she labored so, just as you do now for her."

“ You offer that the world may look past horrid deeds. “

And he hopes it shall — that Macedon’s eldest may walk among the common souls and let neither the scars upon his face or upon his breastbone bring foes against him : accusations of tyranny or discredit of his love for stoic Minerva or benevolent Maria.

“ But we must first overcome this island , “ He grumbles. “ and keep alliances from revolution — and I ask it once more : if friendships should turn and hearts be swayed , protect Maria — even if you must contend against former friends. Then you shall have no greater ally than Michalis of Macedon. “

He turns , and casting eyes to cerulean seas , arms fold.

Though, perhaps it was only a matter of time before his father decided to return to his grand project. He was hardly at the age of being incapable of siring more sons, after all.

"Perhaps there is a reason for the concern, as you say; at least you are aware of it. Some are forever blind to it, willfully or not. Yet you're here. You're putting in the effort, trying to look out for your sibling in a less than ideal situation." The smile he offers is measured, but there is an understanding. "You may not consider yourself admirable for it, but I think it's a fine thing."

He pauses, expression falling into something more serious.

"I know little of Fodlan's religious leanings, but where I'm from, our Gods reached a tipping point of madness that would have dragged us off the edge of the void with them, had we not severed those ties. To see another religious establishment so tightly wound around a place of learning and a military force...Well, it does breed some concerns," Lukas replied, tone even.

Soulless eyes and muted despair. Honored dead desecrated, forced from their places of rest to wander unless put to purifying flame. The land itself spewing poison like putrid puss from a wound.

"If our situation here becomes more dire, you will certainly have my cooperation in defense of the students. Your sister is on my team, and just as with the other students, I would not hesitate to place myself in between her and danger."

Neither of their souls were clean, but they could see eye to eye on that.

Lukas is somewhat caught off-guard by the question, his gaze shifting away as he turns thoughtful. "My hope in knowing him...?" What a question, indeed. They had been a fixture in each other's lives, but ever opposing, never meeting in the middle.

His gaze remains focused somewhere on the floor, hands clasped tight behind his back, before lifting another smile onto his face. Small, tinged with something he doesn't understand and cannot put a name to. "I think...I should have liked to know him at all, and be known in return. To know that, despite our differences or mistakes made between us, there is a connection that could not be broken by anything."

Whatever relationship Michalis had with his sisters, he was still in their lives, he knew them -- he cared, even if it was not perfect.

"I do not think you have to fear not being seen as strong or capable by Maria. You are a big brother who would do anything, no matter how it dirtied your hands or your soul, for her. She is able to hope because of the path you guard for her." A slight laugh, then, "But do not fear being vulnerable. She has the hands of a healer, they are gentle on a heart of turmoil, if you let them reach it."

But it is an odd thing — Michalis of Macedon speaking of hope and that piercing white light that had so safely guarded him from death , and he looks away , the art of comfort uneasy on a warlord’s tongue.

“ If my first sister should still dare to look upon me , “ He begins , brows drawn fiercely together. “ And regard me not as the man she opposed but as her friend from our youth , there is hope for you yet. “

For he had never thought she’d so welcome him again — that she’d raise spear and axe and wyvern maw against him with nary a hesitation.

“ But I must disagree , one last time. “ And he raises a broad hand to assuage both tempers , shaking his head. “ There is no greater shame than for a healer to have need to raise their staff — in battle or otherwise , especially if it is by careless courage that their patient suffers injury. “

( And that had been him , yes — so reckless among warlords and desperate against oppressing Dolhr , and the pink of long-healed scars still marred his face for it , sutured endlessly by the young hands of his healer sister. )

He joins her presence on booted heel , arms steadfast against his chest , a resolve flame-like and iron-wrought creased into his visage.

“ You may call me Michalis , “ He offers , and nods ( for he’s certain he’s read it before that she hails exaltedly from imperial territory ).

“ You say you know Maria , “ He implores , standing distantly before her. “ And you did not oppose so heavily to assuming we’re no more than cannon-fodder for monasterial affairs. Say , you see it too — the senseless dangers they pit against the youth? “

The blunt greeting is what catches the girl's attention. Sudden and, even improper, introduction paving way to what the true intent of conversation is. Her brow quirks; the curtness cutting through the air.

"You understood correctly," she concurs. "I don't particularly disagree with that. It would be foolish to ignore the monastery— the church's, rather— past actions. Take Pasithee, for example.. I've been unable to learn further despite the fact she was kept within their reach."

Edelgard sweeps a hand onto her hips, peering upwards to make eye contact: "I happen to have met Maria on one of those very missions some time ago now. I've no interest for speaking on others' behalf's, but it's as I've said to others— Choices need to be made by a person's hands alone. Undermining the truth and resolve in someone else's decisions is not a course I steer towards."

He waved a broad hand , head shaking , a coarse sigh rumbling from within.

“ You misunderstand : I haven’t questioned her resolve in the slightest — not since our reunion overseas , “ Garnet locks sway , and he sighs again. “ I could not — would not. It is her resolve that snatched my miserable soul from hell ; I’ve not credited her for less since. “

Brows furrow , firm displeasure creasing into the shadows of his face. “ And not even the mightiest of Archanea — or even in your land of Fodlan — could deter her from aiding any deserving or undeserving soul. But she is no knight , and her kindness extends even to those that would abuse it , and it is my wish as her eldest sibling to keep her safe. “

He heaves in , quelling the ire that sir from earlier had so ticked , and looks upon the girl again , face set. “ I ask merely that if you should find yourself her ally again , you would aid her — be that with or against the church. Fanatic religious establishments have . . . dealt Maria a great hardship before. “

either way, feeling like he'd kinda said something wrong but not knowing what, rosado follows after.

one last obstacle, this one looking more harrowing than either of the others. or maybe that's just the tall poles stretching way up above the water speaking. swallowing a gulp, he summons his courage and starts making his way up. for the snakes! for glory! for... the likes!

as he steadies himself at the top of the pole and straightens on wobbly legs, he can only think that it's a good thing he's not afraid of heights. wonders if any of the other contestants are, and feels pretty bad for them. and definitely doesn't expect the beam in the middle to start swinging that fast.

roll ,⠀9. hit!　4 damage. rosado 6/10hp.

"aaahghga!"

what happened to practice mode? wasn't the first time supposed to be easier??

without time to think, he can only try to scramble back onto his feet before the beam comes around a second time.

roll ,⠀15. hit!　4 damage. rosado 2/10hp.

ugh... not going too good. trying to keep the strain off his face, he tries to look over at the others——caspar's not looking great either, but the professor's still jumping.

the beam picks up speed more, and there's no way he can get back up again before it reaches him on the next rotation, so arms and legs just clutch tight to the pole and eyes squeeze shut to brace for the impact——

roll ,⠀17. crit!　8 damage. rosado 0/10hp.

terrible idea when stars explode, stunning him beyond thought and movement, and he doesn't even feel himself falling, only able to register the thundering pain in his skull and wonder, vaguely, if he'd managed to do something really bad to himself this time.

Roll 1: 17 , Hit! -4HP ; Caspar 6/10HP

Yipes! it's fast, too! The horizontal arm of the beam knocks his feet right out from under him, leaving him teetering on the edge of his platform. No no no, he's not going down yet——!

Roll 2 : 2, Miss!

His leap over the beam is more of a dive. Knees and hands both hit the platform hard on the landing, but at least he's back closer to the center! Now he just needs to stand up and—

Roll 3: 16, Crit! -8HP ; Caspar 0/10HP

So he hefts the boy over his shoulder and secures him with a firm arm , and nodding to the embankment urges the aliferous student to swim ashore as a swimmer's dexterity brings him to sand and muddied water's edge.

" I have a sister your age , " He mutters , and with great and easy care departs the whimsical youth from his shoulder , laying him carefully on white sands that sparkle beneath noontime's sun. " She would . . . "

He inhales and presses to his sternum — that place caught roughly against the log he'd stood and leapt on — and breathing out slowly shakes his head. His hair! Maria's careful , dextrous craft — ruined!

" She'd help. "

Gingerly , callused fingertips slip the rose from his slipping locks and unfasten his sister's handiwork , securing the sash of that putrid yellow about the space where shoulder meets bicep ; he lays the rose beside the boy.

" Tell him he can keep it , the flower — I'll find another one. " ( Because he thinks , in his aching , surely cracked chest , that Maria might be proud he relinquished a flower to someone who had lost theirs ).

" I stand by it , " He declares , standing , and holds to his chest. " What I did in that dune-infested hell. I'll do it again , given it'll benefit me. But for now —" He nods , and garnet locks damp and cluttered together sway. " —I'll find that medic. Stay here , watch him. "

roll ,⠀3.　+2 spaces roll ,⠀1.　1 damage. 7/10hp

timing the next jump between ball-and-chains, rosado lands next to caspar, and not a second after professor michalis clears the last stretch of the course, making it safely to the other side.

and good thing too ; he wasn't looking too great. a concerned glance casts around for any healers on standby... no? was he just supposed to keep going like that?

suddenly his smarting ankle didn't feel like all that big a deal by comparison.

roll ,⠀0 forever.　we are standing in place for a long time

looking back at his last remaining rival, he sees caspar eyeing up the rhythm of a——giant glove or something, hesitating on the last sprint. "aw, don't think you can make it through?" it's sort of genuine, but also sorta not——the cheekiness tucked in tone gives him away as he waits to watch with bated breath. it didn't really matter who made it to the end first, right? just that none of them were getting knocked off?

two arms tuck behind his back, hooking as he sways back and forth expectantly. "hmmm, i bet you can do it. bet you can do it in one shot. come on caspar, better make it count!"

roll ,⠀2.　+1 space. roll ,⠀0.　0 damage. 7/10hp roll ,⠀2.　+1 space.　FINISH!

finally, caspar clears! "whoooo!!" both arms shoot up in celebratory cheer——maybe he shouldn't be rooting for another team, and he wasn't really, just complimenting a nice job. nothing wrong with that. with things just waiting on him now, he helps himself to the end too, finding a nice, long gap between swings and sorta half-limping his way across to the finish line and looking over at the professor when he speaks up.

...

... oh! was ' mystical stranger ' supposed to be him? aw, that's nice. "oh, the flower crown? those were just some wildflowers we found on the island. i can show you when this is over!" and really, if it was flowers he just wanted, he could've just said so. a flower crown would look good on someone like him, he thinks.

Movement roll: 0 Movement roll: 0

There!

Movement roll: 3! Moves forward 2 spaces! Finish!!

He stands , a quick thunder caged beneath his sternum , and marches onward to the next hellish game : looming logs situated erect — designed for a ploy to sweep one's own feet from beneath them.

So he climbs and climbs to its great height , and no sooner had company joined when the great beam in the center swung without remorse , and instinct bade him leap high beyond its whirring presence , knees tucked to his chest.

Round 1 Rolled: 3 ; Miss! - No dmg. 10/10HP

( The fall . . . it's something dire into cool , teal waters , and he's certain that the steel sweeper bludgeons too terribly akin to a fierce beast ).

And it comes around again ; he leaps once more , tucking hardy knees against a firm chest , kept high over a looming fall when booted feet land again on the beam.

Round 2 Rolled: 3 ; Miss! - No dmg. 10/10HP

The others — bruised and bludgeoned fiercely by now — he winces against ( most especially the mystical boy who chimes so much like the joy of young Maria that . . . perhaps he was not so bad company like his brutish ally ).

" Point your toes when you fall ! " He calls ( and thinks it's only after wondering of his sister that he offers the kindness ). " Landing flat . . . it'll harm you ."

And as the beam comes again with great , gathered speed , he leaps ( but perhaps the stall for kindness had deterred his focus ) and the beam catches beneath his feet and topples him ; broad , coarse hands grasp roughly to wood , and colliding against his own post he heaves as breath flees his lungs.

" . . . Damn . . . "

Round 3 Rolled: 13 ; Crit! - 8dmg. 2/10HP

Shoulders flare as he hoists himself high again , and leveraging on his beam , he stands , staring as the sweeper comes again ; he leaps with lacking strength ( for the constitution in his lungs had gone after his collision , and he's sure somewhere beneath muscle and tissue he's bruised something ) and the log sweeps against his knees.

Round 4 Rolled: 18 ; Crit! -8dmg. 0/10HP

As he falls , he bolsters off the wood of his own beam , clearing a space in the air as he points stinging fingertips towards teal waters , and the coolness comes awash over him as he resurfaces — a balm for aching bones.

"just you and me, rosado," fae utters to himself, and takes in the swinging mechanisms again. poleaxe... beam... duffel bag... honestly, being hit full-on with one of those things could knock a man clean out. who'd put this obstacle course together, anyway?? those hosts that'd announced the games...? he's pretty sure they hadn't been human.

or maybe just really, really good disguises.

hard blinks put him back in focus. think about those later. okay, ready, timing, and... jump.

roll ,⠀3.　+2 spaces. roll ,⠀0.　rosado takes 0 damage. rosado 8/10hp.

Caspar growls lowly, old anger flaring back up with fresh heat as Michalis enters his space. His hand lashes toward the weighted pouch at his hip, flinging one toward the man at point-blank.

Attack Roll: 17! -1HP to Michalis!

" Yes , go and believe only in the faithfulness of people ."

Rolled: 3 , +2 spaces / 7 -> 9 Rolled: 0 ; 3/10HP -> 3/10HP

He steps forward on a quick heel , and dancing with a warrior's grace ( and a relish in the sting of aching muscles ) vaults himself beyond slots seven and eight and lands upon the precipice of victory.

" You were all so foolish , " He grits. " —believing in humanity. Pah! "

And he leaps again , and clutching to sunders in need of sutures lands at the game's end , he doubles to his knees to intake breath in flaming lungs.

Rolled: 3 , +2 spaces / 9 -> 10. Finish line reached!

" Like a stupid child — the power of friendship and all that hog wash. "

When breath has kissed his lungs and vigor has returned , he erects himself , and broad hands situate on sore hips.

roll ,⠀2.　+1 space. roll ,⠀2.　rosado takes 2 damage. rosado 8/10hp.

"i dunno if it's that serious... " he mumbles thoughtfully under his breath, eyes cast off to the side as he picks his way forward after a swinging pickaxe whistles by. but in getting distracted, doesn't notice in time the column-like punching bag that quickly follows it.

with a short cry, he tries to twist himself out of the way, but the side of the heavy thing clips him hard——and foot lands unevenly in his haste not to be sent right off the platform. "ah!" wincing, he hobbles and hops, trying to get to a safe gap ; and only when he's clear of the swinging objects does he take the chance to examine his ankle.

nothing too wrong.. no swelling, for now.

Movement Roll: 3! Move forward 2 spaces

And all of that hardly matters right now...! He focuses on bobbing between the swinging weaponry, ducking low beneath a blade.

Damage Roll: 1-1 = 0! No damage!

So Michalis bolts and steps by swinging blades , and he feels the snag of a deep blade's edge against his side and the warmth that trickles thereafter , and he scoffs.

Rolled: 2 , +1 Spaces -> Space 7. Rolled: 3-1 = 1 -> -1HP ; 5/10HP -> 4/10HP.

" None of this is fun , " He mutters , pressing against his side , his shoulder , and soon he's sure a blade will snag his heart and they'll understand the church has condemned them all to terror and agony.

( That's . . . how the heats of foreign deserts had become : a mad house intent on disunity — a singular goal in mind , and despite the love in personal intents , he'd turned traitor as he had before . . . )